Tone Deaf

My musical debut occurred in Mrs. Lyttle’s 4^th grade class, during our production of Dogs, Dogs, Dogs – a self-written parody of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical Cats. I played the inspired role of “Closet Girl,” a materialistic puppy, who along with her friends Snoodle, Anna Jean, and Tea Party were just four dogs in the group SCAT (no, at the time we were not aware of its meaning) looking to be adopted into a nice home.   At one point during rehearsals, we were recorded so that we could hear how it would sound to the audience (read: our parents).  When I heard myself belting out the lyrics, “Closet Girl’s my name/Without new clothes I wail/ I’m extremely trendy/From my head to my tail” (yes, I wrote them myself), I was shocked. When did my voice get so high and squeaky?  Why didn’t it match the pitch of the piano in the background?  

Since that fateful day in 1997, I have been well aware that while I love music, it is best if I don’t express this love by singing a capella in public.  When people ask me if I can sing, my reply is either “not well” or “very badly”.  Luckily, no one in my family is musically inclined (anyone who’s stood in front of us in church can attest to that), so I’ve never been too self-conscious about it.  But, imagine my dismay to learn that my coworker in Ghana, the girl who I would be living with for at least the first 4 months of my time here, was not only in Gospel Choir and an a capella group… but she also placed 3^rd in Dartmouth Idol 2010!! No joke, I was nervous. I feared that she would be mortally offended by my off-key renditions of Iyaz, Beyonce, even Ke$ha. THANK GOD – she’s not. At least, she hasn’t said anything to me yet…

But back to my point: I’ve found kindred spirits in Ghana. People here LOVE music, just like me! And, just like me, the ability to sing in key doesn’t really seem to matter! People here belt it out no matter how good they sound.  For the most part, it’s refreshing not to feel self-conscious. Occasionally though, I'll admit that I wish those who are tonally challenged (like me) were a tad more considerate of how they sound…  

Even though my past couple entries have been of a more serious and philosophical nature, I promise that life here is not all work and thinking about poverty.  It’s really fun too!! A large part of this is the presence of music everywhere: at the school’s morning and afternoon assemblies, at all the churches, on the radios of the local stores, and in our home.  Jamie and I have embraced the local genre, called HipLife, and have spent hours looking up lyrics, dancing around our room, and uploading songs from friends’ flashdrives.  We’ve also been to 3 (FREE!) concerts in the past 2 months.  Below are some of our favorites from what we’ve been listening to:

1) Sarkodie. He’s a Ghanaian rapper, who became famous last year when he won an award for being the “fastest rapper in Ghana”.  The first song of his we liked was called “Babe,” but we’ve recently gotten into “Borga”, shown below:

2) R2Bees. Apparently this groups name is an acronym for “Refuse to Be Broke”.  Given the popularity of their song “Kiss Your Hand” on the radio, I’d have to guess that they’re doing okay.  We really like it, and I’m posting it here because it’s a good example of the HipLife sound.  Enjoy!

3) Castro ft. Asamoah Gyan.  This song isn’t necessarily one of our favorites, but I think it’s worth including.  For those who watched Ghana in the World Cup quarterfinals, you might remember the missed penalty kick by Asamoah Gyan that cost Ghana the match.  Well, if that career fails him, he can always fall back on his budding music career… or not. Despite being hated on for spending time recording a music video when he should have apparently been practicing his penalty kicks, this song (African Girls – its kinda like a Ghanaian Mambe #5) gets a lot of airtime, and I personally like it a lot:

It’s not only homegrown Ghanaian music that is popular here.  The radios play a lot of Nigerian music (like PSquare), American hiphop (and even some American country!), and of course, Jamaican reggae.  Bob Marley is popular, no surprise there, but Jamie and I are slightly obsessed with the various remixes that we hear of this song: “Hold You” by Gyptian. She knew it from this past summer in the States, but as I didn’t hear it until after my arrival, it will forever remind me of Ghana:

So. That’s it. Well, that’s 4 samples of the 50 or so songs that we’ve become familiar with. But one thing that we don’t have access to is new American releases. So, for those of you who can, please comment or shoot me an email and let me know what’s playing on the radio, in the frat basements, etc. Iyaz’s “Solo” is getting way to much airtime on our speakers.  =)

Unintended Legacies

After almost two months of being “alone on the ground,” the President/Country Director of WPE (Ben Schwartz, Dartmouth ’06) arrived for an indefinite stay in Ghana. For a little background, WPE was founded as a result of Ben’s experience here at Manye. During his Junior Winter, he worked through a volunteer organization and happened to be placed at Manye Academy, a small school of about 30 students.  Ben was so affected by his time in Community 25 that he applied for (and received) a Lombard Grant to come back after graduation, during which time he taught in the primary school, and tried to help Mr Kabutey make positive changes to improve the quality of education.  This still wasn’t enough, so upon his return, he worked with some other Dartmouth students who also volunteered here at Manye to set up World Partners in Education. Since then, WPE has sent more than 10 volunteers to Manye, in groups of three or four, to work on projects with the kids. 

Fast forward to September, 2010 when Catherine and Jamie arrive to serve as WPE’s first set of Educational Consultants at Manye. As consultants, we’re supposed to be separate from the school – we’re here to empower the current stakeholders, not do their jobs for them. Another important part of our work here is working with WPE’s Monitoring & Evaluation Committee for data collection, so that we can actually make sure that our projects and interventions are doing some good. Unlike the volunteers, who immediately jumped into doing Creative Arts projects with students and tutoring those who had fallen behind, so as not to waste a day of their 2 months, Jamie and I were instructed to take things slow, to focus on building relationships with all stakeholders, not to jump into projects just because we’re touched by the hardships the kids here face.  Along these lines, it was also expressed to us that it’s not our job to shower the community (or the kids) with presents; we need to navigate power dynamics, and spending lots of money could be a challenge to that. From my (limited) experience with international development, this is a pretty standard policy for NGOs, and since my income for the year is zilch, I had absolutely no problem adopting this philosophy.

But here’s where things got tricky. Because Jamie and I were the first ‘consultants,’  we were also the first obrunis at Manye who weren’t there to spend all their time playing with kids, buying them biscuits, or showing movies on Friday afternoons. The first couple weeks we were there, it was unbelievable (to us) how many of the younger students, who didn’t know our names, would come up to us and say, “Madam, buy me biscuits”.  One day, when I was wearing a headband to go jogging, I was shocked when a girl who happened to be a favorite of the summer volunteers, looked at me with a straight face and said, “Madam, when you leave, you give me your headband.” My immediate reaction was “Hell no. Not when you ask like that.”  But no worries – I didn’t blurt that out. I managed instead something much more neutral and noncommittal, like, “We’ll see”. 

Because is it really their fault? What else could they expect, when for the past couple years, groups of young, enthusiastic obrunis come over for two months at a time. And what are they here for? They’re here to experience Africa, to learn about international development, to make a difference in the lives of kids. And I have no doubt that they do. Because for every few of the annoying “Madam, buy me biscuits,” I encountered a “Madam, will you send this letter to Madam _____?” And on opening these letters to scan and email them to former volunteers, I see notes of labored English talking about how they are working hard in school and how they are reading better and how they miss Madam ____.  So I’m not condemning volunteer programs; I really do believe that individual relationships can make a difference in the life of a student, and I really do think that the kids here deserve to be treated special every once in a while.  And to be honest, part of me wants do be the one to do that. I want to connect with a child, to develop a close relationship, and know that I’ve made a profound difference in his or her life.  I mean, let’s be real… who wouldn’t want that?

But what I’ve realized here is that the quest for those relationships, and the more tangible effects of those relationships, have side effects. The intention is to make the kids happy, to open their eyes to the potential of a brighter future. To show them what life could be like if they study hard, do well in school, and stay out of trouble.  But the unintentional legacy is the common belief that every obruni (especially us younger ones) is here for the same reason.  And even if most are here trying to create a brighter future, we’re not all trying to do it by buying presents or even teaching kids how to read. 

Drumroll Please...

After 5 weeks and 3 days (not that I was counting) ...

WE HAVE POWER!!!!!!

Or, as Ghanaians say, we have "lights on"!

Jamie and I are this happy:

This is Tetteh, a relative of Mr K's who lives with us and is in Class 4 at Manye.

Now that my computer use will be more regular (knock on wood), I'll be able to post more frequently. So stay tuned!